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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I'd once considered hosting a forum for pairing heavy bands with the beer that most appropriately complements their sound. I'd figured there were too many assholes telling me Havarti tasted great paired with a good year of Bordeaux, leaving me to wonder how I could best augment the experience of enjoying some of my favorite bands. Are you really gonna eat cheese as you listen to Electric Wizard or Bongzilla? AND are you really gonna let gouda further distance your wife from your mouth when the Icehouse is doing just fine on its own? Hell no. Beer and stoner-rock go together like Josh and Brody.

Lucky for you, me, and your out-of-work uncle, our beloved Clutch have removed guesswork from such pairings. A brewer from New Belgium Brewing (Fort Collins, CO) happened to stumble upon members of Clutch enjoying sandwiches, apparently leading to the architecture of these 22 ounces sitting next to me as rain tickles my aluminum siding. Of course, I turned on Clutch's 1995 self-titled, cracked the seal, and thanked my wife for knowing me better than I know myself.

Clutch fans will promptly admire the label, while New Belgium fans will immediately recognize the bicycle and LIPS OF FAITH stamps. In discussions with peers, I've found this brew VERY hard to find in the Midwest, with ZERO bottles available in Illinois. But I'll admit to nearly crying when three showed up in my dining room on a Sunday morning. At 9% ABV, I foresaw no enthusiasm from my kids in the event I imbibed before noon, forcing me to wait. But New Belgium has a reputation for great craft-brewing, courageous ingredient marriages, and unparalleled independent style.

Clutch's Dark Sour Ale poured like spent motor oil, thick and black as Neil Fallon's beard. I patiently allowed a burly head of dark-beige foam to bubble and clear (sticking like locusts on clover honey), taking note of the smoky cloud left atop the ale's Black Umbrella. The bouquet is heavy with coffee (resulting directly from coffee malts, duh), cherries, and a wine-like alcohol warmth. I quickly grew impatient and could no longer stand it. I had to raise this stemmed-tulip glass ("obtained" at a Chicago pub in 2005, a perfect vehicle for this brew) and Drink to the Dead as soon as possible.

Immediately noticeable on the palate are the "sour" and the "coffee," resulting in a nod to imperial stouts AND the Dark Sour Wood employed by New Belgium. As the sour pinches your inner-cheek (which sets apart this beer from other stouts and darks), malt character and sweetness round out the mouthfeel and make for a ridiculously satisfying experience. In terms of texture, a sticky fuzz holds on and allows elements to linger just long enough for the drinker to remember this is a New Belgium beer, after all. Nuances of other New Belgium beers are detectable, as the most savory and robust of elements characterize everything this brewery produces.

With that 9%, be careful. The alcohol doesn't come as dry and detectable, which could lead to struggles for the Rock 'N Roll Outlaw who doesn't respect the beer's label. Don't worry about the ale's heavy character disrupting the merger of stout & sour. This is a unique and enjoyable ale that shouldn't be poured too cold. Just tell yourself you're not listening to a shitty band at the local dive, where the beer has to be frigid because you need to down it fast. This is Clutch. The band's gonna take their time, you're gonna be okay with it, and you're gonna be rewarded in the end. Flavor, zest, and aroma open up as the beer warms. I'm actually inclined to turn on my A/C.

If you can get your hands on this beer, make no hesitation. Perhaps Clutch and New Belgium know exactly what they're doing with a limited release, because any Clutch product guarantees The Mob Goes Wild, Wild, Wild. New Belgium advised "Follow Your Folly," while Clutch forever promises they'll be "Scaling up the heights of folly." It seems it was only a matter of time before this concord hit shelves. Bottoms Up, Socrates!

"In the middle was a big cauldron
that they were stirring, stirring,
and there were trees around
that they kept burning, burning.
I asked a toothless man
who all these people were, and
he said, "The beermakers,
and we are working, working."

For most artists the "rock n' roll lifestyle" is far from the fairytale that most of us imagine it to be…in fact the music industry can be a real bitch. So that's what makes it truly special when you find that rare band who can look the rigors of said lifestyle straight in the eyes, throw their collective middle fingers to the sky and with smiles on their faces, brazenly kick out their jams for the simple reason that they fuckin' love ‘em. Brothers and sisters…91s are just such a band. And on their debut album First Blood, this trio of Pennsylvanians…Patrick Michael Reigel (guitars/bass/vocals), Robert Eugene Gallagher Jr (drums/vocals/Moog) and Addam Jacob Woolf (bass)...drop ten hits of psychedelic, stoner rock goodness that are guaranteed to show you one hell of a good time. Strap yourselves in…you're gonna love this one.

The briskly paced instrumental "Enter the E" blows open the doors of First Blood, sounding somewhere along the lines of Dick Dale if the king of surf guitar got his hands on a fuzz pedal and a whole bunch of weed. The track comes and goes so quickly that you won’t even realize you’re in the middle of a contact high when it ends. And then right around the time you hear a voice whisper “looking wicked”, 91s proceed to saturate your ears with the hazy groove and relentless swagger of “Haitian Lady”. Imagine Jimmy Hendrix fronting Fu Manchu and you’re in the right sonic neighborhood. With wonderfully sleazy lyrics and riffs thick enough you could chew on them...this is rock n’ roll…this is 91s!

But if I had to choose, I’d say that one of the next three songs would be my personal favorite from this record…you can take your pick…it changes day to day. The first of these is “Knows Our Name”, featuring some nice Iommi inspired guitar playing that teeters on heavy, yet never strays from that ultra chill 91s vibe. “Hold Out” starts with fret work that could best be described as antagonistic…it just fucks with you. Here the vocals join the guitar in a sort of duet until eventually all three instruments come together to unleash the finest groove yet on First Blood. And once the band reaches the climax of this tale about a drug deal gone bad (“keep running and running…hold out…he held out”), sitting still is no longer an option. “War Hammer” is the last of the three, and sounds kind of like the Black Crowes doing stoner rock. Here the band is actually doing you a favor as they sprinkle just enough funk into the mix to make sure your lady friend can move her ass to 91s too.

Gallagher’s Moog synthesizer opens “Blue Skirt Demon” with noises more akin to an 80’s arcade than the organic, bluesy romp that the song becomes and he wastes no time getting back to his oversized bass drum and crash cymbals once it does. In this one, we hear background vocals crooning right alongside the song's chord progressions and the chorus of "blue skirt demon…hold me close…keep me till the end". Reigel’s guitar playing should be noted again here as his fingers get downright agile running up and down the frets. “Amazon Panther” keeps the bluesy vibe, but puts on a showcase of 91s' funkier side…kind of a devilishly, rock n' roll version of Parliament/Funkadelic.

“Rumble Weed” opens with an appropriately rumbling bass line from Woolf that is joined by a loose guitar lick and vocal musings about deserts, creation and existence before Reigel shoves a propulsive riff right in your face and all three 91s begin to chant “we won’t die”…it doesn’t get much cooler than this. “Thick Air”, the last proper song on First Blood, is an oh so appropriately titled groove featuring enough heavy fuzz and “thick” riffage to give you a serious case of cotton mouth…you’ll feel like you’ve been chewing on a cloud. And just like that, the album comes to a close with a brief reprise of the chaotic intro, this time dubbed “Exit the E”.

So now that you've heard a little bit about their debut album, you think you're ready to have a little fun with 91s? You see, these guys are like that friend from back in the day who always seemed to get you into trouble…you know…the bad influence who got you into even worse shit. But the thing is, you never stopped hanging with that dude because he was just too much fun. Well I'm here to tell you, listening to 91s is kind of like that. It's music that'll aid and abet you in all the bad shit you were probably gonna do anyway…but at least you'll feel good about doing it.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

SEVEN NINES AND TENS are today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Evening Buzz...

Bio:

Seven Nines and Tens formed in the fall of 2008 in Vancouver British Columbia Canada by guitarist David Cotton.

Cotton aspired to put together a group that combined his love for aggressive guitar driven rock and otherworldly atmospheric sounds. Earl Heath joined the band as Drummer and Bassist and the band played countless shows in the Vancouver area including a date for Citr radio's annual "shindig" festival. A line up shift in March 2010 introduced drummer Riley Roukema to the band while Earl shifted to live bassist.

The band continued to play live and sharpen their songwriting and performance skills. The band entered the World Class factory studios in Vancouver and tracked their debut album "Habitat 67" in February 2011 with engineer Hayz Fisher. Their debut "Habitat 67" will be released internationally in September 2011. The band was nominated in the "Best Metal Band" category for the city of Vancouver at the Urban Culture Conference awards and will tour extensively throughout the remainder of 2011 into 2011.

"Imagine if you will riding through the cosmos in a shiny new rocket ship enjoying the stars and moonlight, then just as you settle into your dream sequence along comes a crazed son of a bitch who decides to t-bone you. You get pissed and a frenzy ensues. That is precisely what Vancouver band Seven Nines and Tens sound like. Amidst a flurry of tempo changes, erratic drum patterns and mesmerizing guitar technique, Seven Nines and Tens take you to a place of extreme ambience, technical precision and celestial atmospherics whilest gazing at their shoes. Superb!"

"These three dudes from Switzerland simply known as Snarf play slowwww..., sleepy, lethargic music that will not wake you up anytime soon. Interesting stops and starts, a lot of cymbal work and a warm fuzzy bass line are used to set the mood. Eerie touches of doom are complimented by spooky effects and a chilling twangy guitar. Soft lazy vocals add to the tripped out murkiness."

The band has generously given permission to download their latest EP at the link below.

Monday, August 29, 2011

WHISKEY AND THE DEVIL is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Evening Buzz...

Bio:

We're a three piece band from Troy, NY called Whiskey and the Devil. We write pissed off music that most people describe as "progressive metal" or "stoner metal". We formed as a four piece band back in 2009, but our original guitar player moved to Oregon. We just released our second demo which is six tracks.

"Whiskey and the Devil is a three piece band from Troy, NY. They revel in highly emotional music that combines dynamic progressive rhythms, angry vocals and a mind-bending uneasiness. Add a wallop to the gut of heaviness and you have the perfect elixer to wash away your mundane worries. Check them out now!

BUFFALO THEORY MTL is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Morning Buzz...

Bio:

History:

The members of the group Buffalo Theory Mtl, which was formed in 2008, are all veterans of the rock'n'roll and metal underground scene, Canadian and Brazilian. Influenced by groups such Black Sabbath, Down and Priestess, Buffalo Theory Mtl wants to be a rock'n'roll band above all but its repertory passes by the thrash metal and even the blues. The Demo-CD “Live in studio” which was released in March 2010 sells at an unexpected speed through the Internet and the group signs with Satanica Prod in New Zealand during the summer 2010. Buffalo Theory Mtl signs also an agreement with canadian booking agency Galy Booking at thesame time.

The group prefers to wait for “good occasions” to play live shows, rather than going all around the province via the bars network, which each member did already several times. Buffalo Theory Mtl gave its first show in March 2010 at the Café Chaos in Montreal. Then followed spectacles at the “Katacombes” (Montreal), “l’Impérial” (Quebec) and “Foufounes Électriques” (Montreal).

Gary Lyons, the bass player, is the producer of “La Grande Guignolée Underground”, which was at its fifth edition this year. The purpose of the event is to collect not-perishable food products for the ‘Sun Youth Organization’. It is a cause to which all the members of the group imply themselves very much.

Veterans:

The group is composed by members of the acoustic hardcore band Les Ekorchés (drummer, guitarist) as well as Ghoulunatics (bassist, drummer, guitarist) and Arseniq33 (guitarist, backing vocal). The singer of the group was born and raised in Brazil, recently moved to Montreal, and has played with several metal bands including The Still and Avalon. All together they played more than 1200 shows in a dozen countries, sharing the scene with groups such S.O.D., Fishbone, Testament, Korn, Sick off it All, Helmet, Sepultura, Exodus, Voivod, Rob Zombie, Limp Bizkit, Dorsal Atlântica, Avenged Sevenfold, Lamb of God, Type O Negative, Entombed, Carcass, SNFU, Marilyn Manson and Suicidal Tendencies, to name just a few. They traveled especially through Quebec and Ontario, being headliners at the largest rooms of the provinces and playing several festivals. They released 14 studio albums and have worked with producers such Glen Robinson, Pierre Rémillard, Daniel Stilling and Fred Fortin.

Looking to the future:

The group, which has its very own sound, now wants to participate on bigger events and believes this could make its music accessible to a wider public. Buffalo Theory MTL plans to record other demo songs and will launch an album until the end of 2011 which will contain English texts, French and perhaps even in Portuguese.

"Out of the ashes of now-defunct deathcore band Ghoulunatics comes Buffalo Theory MTL. This five piece from Montreal stampedes its way through groove heavy, southern fried stoner metal. Each song that these guys emit is pure hellish sonic gratification. Do not stand still or you will get crushed."

Sunday, August 28, 2011

For my birthday, I wanted just two things: plenty of beer and plenty of LOUD. It's hard for me to crack open a PBR silo before I've rubbed my eyes into focus, but I had no problem putting on Red Fang's Murder the Mountains and waiting for the sun to ruin everything. You're not gonna find sludge on each of the album's ten tracks, but there's enough here to carry you through summer's end and get you ready to burn leaves as you scrape the tar from dad's filthy, moldy trashcans.

As far as sludge goes, Murder the Mountains may prove to be more accessible than we've grown used to. Balancing sludge with fuzz is nothing new, but doing so with an end product that keeps listeners from hitting "Eject" is no easy task. These ten tracks shift rhythms, styles, and influences so much, you could only assume the band is on meth. Well, finding a happy medium of Hamm's, High Life, and Tecate served these four Pacific Northwesterners well; they're able to transcend limitations and write songs you'll be using to get yourself laid.

You may immediately detect the influence of Melvins on Malverde, as the pacing and vocals are drop-heavy and sludgy without being too smelly. I can't imagine where lyrics like "I've been dyin' with the unclean people" have their inspiration, but they're enough to remove your pre-conceptions. Rumbling, plodding bass lose their spotlight to a metallic guitar that lifts and abruptly brings us back to Earth.

The clearest audition for Seth's Sunday Sludge lies in Throw Up, pairing sweaty toil with lazy, low-fi chops that construct the album's marquee hymn. Rolling, despondent, dusty... the track gives the finger to cacti and shifts to an up-tempo, machine-gun stumble. The sludge returns, but sirens and red flags stagger to the marriage of doom-drop and spooky gurgling fade-out. Number Thirteen begins with sub-cellar groove bass under soaring licks. Sludge undertones excel and grow proficient just under the disc's best vocals AND lyrics. Things get real interesting as the pot boils, buzzes, and commands your respect. Before a deliberate, understood, and effective fade, we're told "You're my everything." Sounds simple? I can't believe that.

The deliberate, Orange-Goblin-spat Into the Eye grinds, slows the album, and stays just pissed enough to hang around instead of driving home. The riffs, hovering above a deliberate and efficient sludge rhythm, punctuate the track with just enough filth to plod its way through wet leaves and embrace the sun's rays, though after coming up for air you'll immediately return to the pollution welcome by the song's opening.

Wires hops on a pogo-stick and denies our requests for oxygen, maintaining a fuzz groove that bounces between sequoias. A choppy, burly, static-laden buzz welcomes a channeling of Josh Homme, deliberate and almost choir-boyish in mood. You can almost hear an elevator cable snapping and sending four or five assholes to their deaths between doomish drops and a kick drum that makes friends with rattlesnakes for a spooky walk over crusty autumn leaves. The song is one of the album's highlights, with vocals totally contrasting those displayed on Malverde.

The bookend of the album's fuzz is captured on The Undertow, a low, slow trip through temperate drums and cosmic hassle. Placid vocals get flirtatious with the cosmos, relenting just in time to keep the track from pushing forward and screaming. Space-guitar warble lets things get out of control for just a moment before the chaos needs to be curbed.

Abandoning discussions on sludge and fuzz, we welcome the album's changing paces. Hank is Dead and Dirt Wizard maintain buzz without making you feel like you need a nap after Thanksgiving feast. The first finds a dusty pharaoh embracing Western culture and bathing in mud. He may discover Kyuss here as well, though he'll cut the track short, get high on space-guitar, and rape the cosmos with little regard for simulacra.

Dirt Wizard is the album's booziest three-minutes, sounding like a barrel-roll down a muddy hill. The vocals return to Buzz Osborne-style, though a steady stoner groove draws our hands into a quick-paced, haunting melody that slices past descending vocals. Slap a puddle, pick mud from your fingernails, and smack your four-eyed neighbor.

Painted Parade is nothing if not loaded with incredible drumwork. Paced by lightning and curbed by dispassionate grind, the track grasps titanium to break up rotting logs and blister untouched skin. John Sherman just might deserve a break after hitting these skins. Buy him a beer and shut your mouth, should you catch this track live. Human Herd holds the cleanest vocals on the album, not to mention the slick production and drive. Ambitious and steady, the stoner buzz lingers as we learn "We'll find a way to make you lie."

I felt like doing whatever the hell I wanted. I figured a band who did the same deserved to be highlighted. Red Fang have a clear understanding of the importance of balance; let's balance songwriting with life-writing, musicianship with fun. I can listen to Murder the Mountains and hear well over a dozen of my most rewarding life experiences without actually hearing about them on the news. Perhaps you can find the time to discover this album, avoid getting arrested, and smile with friends like you know something the rest of the world doesn't. Feels good, huh?

Saturday, August 27, 2011

With a name like Carcinogenic Corpse, you'd expect this album to be splitting at the seams with heaviness. You'd be accurate in such a blanketed statement, but not how you'd anticipate. On Noise Farm, Carcinogenic Corpse wrestle with an atmosphere this planet doesn't know, cut off a thick slice for everyone to share, and glaze it with enough aberrant sound to make sure your hunger pangs never return. There's so much going on here, and one listen simply won't suffice. After a half-dozen spins, I still can't say I'm confident I'll ever stop finding new and wondrous elements sprinkled throughout these eight tracks.

Noise Farm isn't likely to fit into your collection between Cannibal Corpse and Crowbar. Not even close. In fact, you'd be better off placing it amongst Hybrid, Yo La Tengo, and Aphex Twin. I can't surmise where Mike Vitali (yes, of Ironweed!) finds these sounds or how he manipulates them to grow into the album's resulting soundscapes, but I'm not gonna waste time questioning anything on this disc. Summer Girl lines a rope of spacey fuzz that lingers, hovers, and grabs you by the mind rather than the balls. The pensive crackling and drum-dusting evolves into surging tempos that perfectly balance with hollow quasar bounce. It's hard to think a track without vocals could get you to think this much.

Before I get too far into trying to dissect this sonic amalgam, I should point out the fuzz doesn't end with Summer Girl. Bees buzz on The Charm, a creepy crawl through an abandoned mansion echoing layered vocals that embrace the contemporary while remaining haunting (Brent Hinds with no scowl, perhaps?). Drum loops click just enough to keep listeners twitching and swatting at pests that may or may not even be real. A fizzy shot of rumble breaks, returns, and provides warmth for your midnight walk home.

Guitars drift on Light Yourself a Fire, though a grinding bounce and lyrics like "swallow their hearts" remind you there's too much substance and gravity here for the song to be swept off. The vocal effect is gnarly, forcing out all other sounds for just a few seconds until blips, loops, and wheat-field fretwork lays us down. To Our Surprise follows, sprinkling the grind with a hint of club-stomp. Lumbering, chewy, and factory-driven, the song rolls through incredibly beautiful imagery while still serving as the album's dirtiest chapter.

Vult Decipi doesn't warrant a linear explanation of sounds. The song, fairly or unfairly, moves from fully-realized guitar intentions to cruise-ship dinner-party comfort to a fat cat in a far corner plucking a cello to a piano player having a drink thrown in his face to parlor games and parlor fights to something spooky and unidentifiable. I suppose you'll have to hear this one yourself.

Rocco DiDonna's contributions are most evident on the gorgeous, airy Sōng Shān (Super High). You can't help but wonder what was lost, what he's trying to get back, and if his muse will answer when he asks "Can we laugh ourselves to sleep?" The backing ohms and ahhs only elevate an already heavenly song, while cautious drums and negatively charged ions crumble and let the buzz sink.

What follows, and what proved to be the album's best track, is the industrial chain-link Battle on the Hill. Drums pop and lock, keys get spooky, and the guitar trips and bounces before a rocket fails to launch on more than one occasion. The strings soon visit the Far East, though they get a tad flirtatious with warbling fuzz.

The album's closer is the hollow, English sidewalk-toned Down to the Bone. The groove is slow, calm, and loaded with an unidentifiable nostalgia. Something here screamed Sneaker Pimps, but acute descriptions won't ring true. It's too bad the album has to end here, given the inviting nature of the track. The electro-tread gets only slightly heavier on its march out the door, all while you feel like you just might be at a violin recital during the Abe Lincoln administration.

There are so many sounds onNoise Farm, its hard to imagine they'd come together this well. From time-warps to space-warps, factories to nurseries, it seems like Carcinogenic Corpse have covered just about everything here. I can't imagine how much fun this album was to create. What'll really give listeners a kick, though, is how much fun it is to hear. Over and over. Again and again. There's something new every time.

Friday, August 26, 2011

THE RAVENNA ARSENAL is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Evening Buzz...

Bio:

Not to be confused with The Ravenna Training & Logistics Facility, The Ravenna Arsenal is a seasoned, well-oiled war machine from the overcast lands of Northeast Ohio. Bold riffs 21,000 plus acres in size rumble and whirlwinds of magical frequencies sweep you into another dimension, far away from the objective world.

"The Ravenna Arsenal from Kent, Ohio is primarily an all-instrumental band with vocals for the most part yelled in unison. The vocals are actually my favorite aspect of the band by the way. Tantalizing guitar passages, a steady barrage of riffs, intriguing drum tempos and a somewhat mysterious aura will leave you mystified and subdued."

STRAIGHTEN THE CROOKED is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Morning Buzz...

Bio:

From a warehouse in the bustling metropolis of Longmont, CO we give you Straighten the Crooked. Formed by Matt and Zach in August of 2009 as a punk rock band, they quickly started a search for a drummer. After auditioning a handful of drummers over the next four months Geoff finally came along and transformed the band into what it is today… A metal band with much love for all that is heavy.

After recording their first demo with Jamie at Module Overload, they set out to play some shows. After a year of playing shows, they returned to the studio, this time with Bart at Motaland, to record their first EP. We have the master, but not the funds to press. We'll get there soon enough.

"Like a huge monster truck crushing its way over mounds of scrap metal, Straighten the Crooked know how to bring the heavy. Forged in their punk roots, this three-piece from Longmont, Colorado combines doomy grooves, raucous rythyms, brawny vocals and mountainous riffs. Crack one open and crank it up!"

The band is set to perform at this year's Denver Doomfest. Click here for details.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

We are a three-piece rock band hailing from Belfast. We’ve been going for a few years now, but recently have started to make some noise on the local scene.

All three members are graduates from one kind of music degree or another, and all teach their native instrument as well as a variety of other things ranging from Music Technology to Harp.

We have taken a break recently to write and record our debut album (Collision), which we are currently promoting heavily through touring in Ireland. Before this break we had a few pretty high profile gigs which gave us some attention from BBC Radio Ulster, AU and ATL; we performed our interpretation of Nirvanas ‘Lithium’ at Oh Yeahs ‘Nevermind Revisited’ night, performed with LaFaro and A Plastic Rose at ‘Up in the Attics’ 80th gig celebrations, and the launch gig of our second EP ‘Out of the Blue’ was the focus of a BBC2 TV show called Magic Party, hosted by Joe Lindsay.

SKULLDRON FORMED IN THE SUMMER OF 2010 FROM A MIX OF MUSICIANS IN OTHER PROJECTS.

RAY HAS BEEN A SINGER IN THE LOCAL SCENE FOR ABOUT 20 YEARS AND HAS TOURED THE US. HIS OTHER PROJECTS INCLUDE "CAR THIEF" AND "NONE OF THE ABOVE".
ANDERS MOVED HERE FROM CHICAGO AND HAS PLAYED IN THE LOCAL BAND "TRAVELER IN PAIN".

CLAYTON JOINED US AS A SIDE PROJECT FROM HIS REGULAR BAND" 8 POINTS".
DAVID WAS ALSO A MEMBER OF "TRAVLER IN PAIN" ALONG WITH ANDERS AND ALSO CURRENTLY IS WITH S.H.I.(SHIT HAPPENS INC.)

ALEX JOINED US IN 2011, ALSO A MEMBER OF THE BAND 8 POINTS.
TOGETHER WE CREATE A HEAVY SOUND WITH A STONER GROOVE STRAIGHT OUT OF ALBUQUEREQUE.

"Playing their instruments at mammoth volume, Skulldron have people in Albuquerque, NM starting to take notice. The band fuses elements of classic heavy metal, southern rock, and a smidgen of doom while incorporating dark horror-inspired lyrics into their songs. The band is currently writing songs for a full-length album. In the meantime, check out some of their songs available for preview on Reverb Nation."

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

POWERED WIG MACHINE is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Evening Buzz...

Bio:

Southern Arizona’s Powered Wig Machine, (a.k.a) PWM, began crafting heavy, stoner-flavored desert rock in 2007. PWM is essentially a band of musical jokesters, using tuned-down classic-rock riffs, humorous lyrics, and killer jazz inspired percussion grooves to deliver pure American desert man rock. Their oddball name spawns from track seven on Josh Homme’s (Queens of the Stoneage) The Desert Sessions Volumes 9-10 album. And…no these guys don’t jam tunes about ladies hair pieces or the art of wig manufacturing. When you listen to their style of music, the name just seems to fit like a codpiece with leather pants ensemble.

PWM’s lineup includes lead singer/guitarist Wayne Rudell, guitarist Brian Gold, bassist Joey Rudell, and drummer Daniel 'the ranchero' Graves. These rockers are all Arizona natives and have been playing together as a group since 2001.

Musically, PWM’s style and niche come strongly from where the band lives geographically. The band lives 12 minutes from Tombstone, “the town to tough to die” AZ. We feel that our self-branded heavy western Rock n Roll captures the modern spirit of the west. It’s our fuzzed out blues riffs and hard driving rhythm that provides the soundtrack for the Arizona high desert. Music made for that burly biker on the southern desert highway or tequila drenched cowboy rocker. It’s that PWM heavy western rock n roll sound they can wear like a tattoo and raise their rock fists to.

"Arizona's Powered Wig Machine is a unique band to say the very least. The band combines spirited vocals, humorous lyrics and tasty riffs to create a one-of-a-kind sound. While the obvious description of the band would be Desert rock, after all the band is from Arizona, the band implies an unbridled jazzy rhythmic pattern which adds to their quirkiness. I guess that desert heat makes you a little crazy which is a good thing in this case. Become a Wighead today, listen now!"

Megachurch are a heavy rock band from Ohio who employ two bass players and eschew vocals in favor of televangelist samples. Bassist Mikey Baranick (late of the Ohio pop band Machine Go Boom), bassist Brian Michael Hill (formerly of the respected This Is Exploding) and drummer Dan Price (who Ringo’d both of those bands) convened after their groups went boom and exploded and decided to try making music without their six-strings. It turned out massively heavy, but with incredibly accessible riffs – both of the prior bands were damn fine hooksmiths – and they made a big splash in Northern Ohio right out of the gate with their March 2009 debut show. Within months of their formation, they were featured on the cover of Cleveland’s alt-weekly Scene Magazine and selected to be the lead-in band for the legendary Mission Of Burma at Cleveland’s annual very-big-deal Studio A Rama festival.

The band used the popular fundraising site Kickstarter.com to help fund the release of Megachurch 2: Judgment Day, offering everything from the album, t-shirts, and a limited release of their Megachip EP to the test pressings and original artwork for the record by Cleveland artist John G. Judgment Day is available on vinyl, cd, and digital download from the band's website at megachurch.bandcamp.com and at fine independent record stores throughout the state.

"Megachurch from Cleveland, Ohio is not your typical band. The band uses a variety of televangelist samples instead of vocals to compliment the band's instrumentals. The sound is very minimalistic. Megachurch chooses to use two bass guitars and a drummer instead of the conventional guitar. The band still manages to fulfill the listener with a ton of progressive stoner riffs and metal fury to keep your attention. Great stuff!"

Monday, August 22, 2011

A lonely submarine navigating the black emptiness. A motley crew from vienna bound for the glories of groove. The sonar is scanning the surface: deep frequencies of doom and stonermetal, lyrics that oscillate between occult mysteries and the rebellions of the depressed. The perfect soundtrack for your next hike through the swamp of the mind.

Feel the Heel!

"Iron Heel are an amazing new band from Vienna, Wien, AT. The band uses an awesomely terrifying mix of death howls and clean vocals layered amongst thick as tar riffs and a steady pounding drum beat to tear at your soul. With huge fuzzy guitar tones, immersive grooves and undeniable heaviness, Iron Heel will be imbedded into your skull for years to come. Listen now!"

We formed in 2008 out of the ashes of The Dirty Green, The Peelers, and The Hodads . . .
Upon our first session we decided to follow our ears to the first music that informed our
sensibilities . . late 60's to mid to late 70's hard rock/punk/proto-metal/and heavy blues damage . . .

"Every now and then a band comes along that you just can't get out of your head. That band right now is The Mediums. This band from Chicago, IL will have your ass moving in no time. The music is fuzzy, gritty and overtly psychedelic. The bluesy vocals groan amongst a wallowing bass line and a firey groove while infusing a refreshing raw and energetic passion."

Pickup your very own copy of "Shiny Void Blues" only available on LP (comes with an MP3 download card) at these fine locations.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Do I really need to enumerate the credentials of Hail! Hornet's lineup? You'd expect the band to fall far short of adding up to the sum of its parts, but Hail! Hornet's second offering is far too filthy and far too heavy to dismiss. Featuring T-Roy Medlin (Sourvein), "Dixie" Dave Collins (Weedeater), Vince Burke (Beaten Back to Pure), and Erik Larson (Alabama Thunderpussy), Hail! Hornet coat Disperse the Curse with sticky sludge and throw in a snake's nest for added discomfort. These eleven tracks won't make your day any sunnier, and you may need to cozy up to 750 mL of Wild Turkey afterwards.

The band certainly succeeds in leaving behind any comparisons to the members' other endeavors, though the album's success lies in how diverse, proficient, and unhinged it sounds. Shoot the Pigs creeps in with doom, bongos, laughter, and an undeniable creep-factor. Vince shreds through an unsettling engine-gurgle until T-Roy decides he's done fuckin' around. Erik's drums paint a canvas that goes from drier than a bucket o' sand to completely doused in napalm. Then there's Dixie's bass; low, loose, and unmistakable all at once. You're only 4 1/2 minutes into the album and you already feel your face starting to swell.

Given their pedigree, you can certainly expect plenty of plodding grime from Hail! Hornet. What'll surprise listeners, though, is the breakneck speed present on much of this album. Gifted Horse is drunk, pissed, and running on dangerously high RPM's. The drums almost move too quickly for you to notice, but your head will bounce with every bass lick. Disperse the Curse is loaded with tempo shifts, moving from a car that won't start to steadily humming backwoods romps. The track is seemingly paranoid, complete with roller coaster guitars and growls spat through clenched teeth. If you're listening in your car, you may think you're being pelted with (*ahem*) hail until T-Roy channels Nick Oliveri and lets the mire sit a few seconds.

If the rattling bass, drum shifts, and twitchy snickering of Glass Roses sounds like something's wrong and getting worse, the burn of Beast of Bourbon provides 40-proof relief. Imagine having your jaw jacked on the playground when all you wanted was a spot on the kickball roster. Well, the choppy guitar and deadwood bass of this track rollick hard enough to make you say "uncle." The fever breaks, but not before Dixie's bass and Vince's guitar receive marquee-billing on respective solo crustiness.

Kill the Liars begins slow, distant, and more lumbering than a wet Clydesdale. T-Roy echoes his vocals mercilessly and hauntingly, with a groove picking up just in time for guitars to slice through intermittent lifts and pauses. The traditional metal licks of Unholy Foe lose out to ratchet drums and dragged-by-your-ass vocals. The drums relent long enough for a gathering around a bubbling cauldron, while the cymbals are more patient than they want to be.

Suicide Belt is where these burns start to blister. Drums punish, vocals screech and halt, and a down-tuned bass remains deliberately loose and lazy. Good luck keeping up with Hail! Hornet on this track. The slowed, creepy Dullards Creed follows, which is a lost, distant Brian Johnson drowning in a bog. Vocals battle and bounce off one another, yelling obscenities across a muddy swamp with plenty of fuzz added for an incredible dynamic. The drums of Scars will tug at your ears like firing pistols, while the track's guitars shave off more than you're willing to shed. The promised storm drops under a double kick drum that joins a roughneck, rumbling bass and ends way too soon.

These assholes decided to save the death march as the album's last track. Blacked Out in Broad Daylight is 8 1/2 minutes of disapproving doom, plodding on pitted vocals from a place unknown. This cement-hardened march to the gallows contains no apologies, and you never expected any. You're stranded in the woods, surrounded by eerie howls, perhaps hounds gnarling over bloody scraps. A choppy tempo casually grows slower, much slower, which couldn't have been easy for the band to maintain. The evil buzz hanging in the canopy allows the instrumentation to gather its thoughts and spit its final breath. You once thought Beast of Bourbon was the album's best track, but now you're not so sure.

What Hail! Hornet have done is created a sludge record that's faster than is normally allowed and heavier than is normally expected. From start to finish, Disperse the Curse picks you up from your piss-stained couch, throttles you from wall to wall, and tosses you into the back of a rusty F-150 for a spattered bonk through the timber. It's fast, it smells awful, and it sounds incredible. Don't let that term "super group" invade your skull. These four dudes are gonna bust through your preconceptions and cake your speakers with something you can't identify.

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://hailhornet.bandcamp.com/album/disperse-the-curse"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Disperse The Curse by Hail!Hornet&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Many of the albums that we review here at Heavy Planet feature an astounding mélange of musical styles and genres. Artists dabble in a little bit of this and a little bit of that, creating truly original soundscapes that defy classification. The Wretch is not one of those albums. You see The Gates of Slumber make no bones about it…they play one style of music and one style only. Their sound is lethargically paced, ominously themed and never strays from heavy. I’ll put it to you this way, if you came to Heavy Planet today in search of doom…well friend…you fucking got it.

Now if you’re at all familiar with this Indianapolis trio’s history, you’ll notice that there are a few differences from the band’s previous efforts. For starters, newcomer J. “Cool” Clyde Paradis has replaced Bob Foust behind the drum kit, joining longtime bassist Jason McCash and of course vocalist, guitarist and founding member Karl Simon in the lineup. Also noticeably absent this time around are the overt references to swords and sorcery and other such fantastical themes and images. One look at the cover of The Wretch and you know this isn’t your typical Conan the Barbarian inspired Gates of Slumber album. Finally, this release marks the end of the band’s affiliation with Sanford Parker, producer of the last two Slumber albums, Hymns of Blood and Thunder (2009) and Conqueror (2008). At the recommendation of their label (Rise Above Records), The Gates of Slumber flew to London and holed up in the attic of Jaime Arellano (producer of Ghost’s acclaimed Rise Above release, Opus Eponymous) to hash out the eight tracks that would become their most raw and honest album to date.

This is apparent right out of the gates (pardon the pun) as we’re introduced to The Wretch by way of its opening track “Bastards Born”, which features a lumbering, Sabbath-like riff and Simon’s Ozzy meets Tommy Victor (Prong) vocals as he bellows “lies are told and curses laid…shame is carried…a debt unpaid”. The song plods along like a drunken Neanderthal (and I mean that as the sincerest of compliments) until Simon breaks the monotony with a blistering guitar solo. One that seems all the more frenetic due to the contrast it creates with McCash’s sluggishly fuzzed out bass and Paradis’ beyond patient beats. To say this song’s pacing is methodical would be a severe understatement. Simon exits his solo and delves right back into the heavy riffing that started this archetypal doom number as he moans “and when your high horse has been brought down…and in your own lies you’ve surely drowned”. Classic!

“The Scovrge Ov Drvnkenness” kicks this beast into a gallop, featuring a much more up-tempo riff that also happens to be catchy as all hell. True story…the damn thing grooves so good, I got caught off guard the first time I heard it and was unknowingly spotted by drivers to my left and to my right at a traffic light as I banged my head unmercifully. Fucking embarrassing…thanks Gates of Slumber. In all seriousness, my understanding is that this was actually the song that Karl Simon originally intended to be the title track of the album, but decided against it at the last minute for fear that people may mistake it’s meaning as a “party album”. The true gist of the song, both musically and lyrically is quite the opposite. It is a dark and dismal glance into the dangerous temptations of alcohol. “All your life you’ve cast away…a slave to drink you will stay.”

"To the Rack with Them" keeps the rhythm accelerated and the lyrics bleak. Don't get me wrong though, we ain't talking speed metal here…when I say "accelerated", I mean The Gates of Slumber are moving just faster than a crawl…and that's a good thing. By now, Jaime Arellano's stellar production on the album becomes clear as he allows each instrument to stand out clearly without any one overpowering the others. This is especially apparent here where McCash's thick ass bass lines rumble your guts while Simon seamlessly launches into another fret burning guitar solo and it all flows smoothly through Paradis' beats…not one thing is lost and yet nothing seems overwhelming.

"Day of Farewell" is possibly the most depressing seven minutes ever put to tape. As the song opens we hear Simon groan "I grow tired of this world…I know all there is to know…the fruit is bland and the wine is dry…why continue this lie?" But his pain is our pleasure as the song is another instant doom classic, keeping things slow and low and as foreboding as anything you'll hear. That goes for "Castle of the Devil" as well, which begins with a solemn guitar line accompanied by Simon's wicked prose, until The Gates of Slumber unleash their overwhelming onslaught of heaviness on your eardrums. But wait…just when you think you know where this track is headed, Paradis breaks it down with a funky beat…McCash follows suit…and out of nowhere, Simon starts jamming out on a bluesy solo with brazen disregard for conformity. This willingness to branch out is what makes The Wretch stand apart from other recent offerings by the band's peers.

Believe it or not, as much as I like everything The Gates of Slumber have to offer here, "Coven of Cain" may just be my favorite track on the album. This one is another of the band's shorter, "faster" songs and when they break it down at about one and a half minutes in, I promise you'll be ripping the volume knob off your stereo (or spinning the shit out of the volume wheel on your ipod). The album's title track is over eight minutes of pure sonic drudgery, ploughing its way through your skull. Sample lyric…"I sold my soul so long ago and got nothing in the deal…Imagine what a fool I feel". Pour yourself some red wine, light a few candles and shut your eyes for this one…hell you might even try playing it backwards…see what happens. And then The Wretch concludes with "Iron and Fire", a near thirteen minute opus that grinds its gears from second down to first and back again and features enough of the band's gravid riffage and pure blasphemy to send this one straight to hell.

The Gates of Slumber have created a fine album here, one that doesn't rely on recycled riffs and choruses simply for the sake of extending a song beyond a five minute run time. Every note…every lyric on The Wretch seems carefully crafted and meticulously placed. Furthermore, the band did well to distance themselves from the Dungeons and Dragons themes of their past, replacing them instead with lyrical content that tends to actually say something…even if what they're saying may not be all rosy and bright. The fact is doom ain't a pretty scene…and The Gates of Slumber sure as hell ain't a pretty band. But dammit that's why I love this shit and I can guarantee you if you're still with me this far, you're gonna love it too.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Timing is everything, they sometimes say. Exactly one day before this album was given a fair shake in my den, I'd heard about the recent stage collapse at the Indiana State Fair. Some country band called Sugarland was spared, but five others lost their lives. Reports indicated a "gustnado" may have been responsible. What you'll hear on Hallucination Boulevard is only slightly more controlled than these freak storms, but it's just as brow-dropping and head-shaking. Gustnado employ every instrument that your MU-101 instructor never wanted you to touch, making you think it'd take no less than ten musicians to shape these tracks. Amazingly, it's all done by just one dude named Frank.

Straight out of Italy's plains comes Dustdevil, the album's arid, bouncy opener. Guitars float, drums tip-toe behind the couch, and the bass remains hidden in the far closet until you get pinched with a fuzzy screech that picks up rhythm and cruises gravel roads under hot sun. A steady drone hangs on for several minutes before taking a few seconds to catch its breath. The sounds come full-circle with a sliced-up solo, pounding drums, and a return to lilt.

If Dustdevil sounded like an introduction to something, perhaps The Golden Rush is the marriage of bow-chicka porn bass, relentless drumwork, and buzzsaw guitars listeners had anticipated. With pacing parallel to Badmotorfinger and drums sounding like barrels falling from rail-cars, you'd wonder how Gustnado manage to successfully enter a space-robot warp straight out of The Running Man. By now I should have indicated these songs contain no vocals, but you may not notice until you've heard the album nine times. Shredding guitar spirals and a solid stoner drone are enough to keep you focused on other, more important elements.

For all its fizzy, buzzy bliss, the album offers plenty of psychedelia to trip on. The atmosphere of Sunshine Delirium is patient and spooky until organic howls pair with peyote warble to form one of the album's most complete moods.

Smell of the Summer begins with gorillas tossing shit-biscuits over hills, while crunchy guitars ultimately give way to Megadeth-thrash licks. But here's where things get weird; nervous keys roll in as drums keep thumping, but the organ grows cheery, almost carnival-esque. TooL's 56-second Intermission must've snuck into Gustnado's studio and laced the tape with opium. Bass drives the tune, guitar hairs stand on end, and the keys won't seem to go away. And you won't seem to forget these eight bizarre minutes.

You're gonna hear Gustnado's audition for film-scoring on Setback in Treasure Island, paranoid and twitchy as it is. You'll think a down-on-his-luck detective has reached a dead-end alley with nowhere to go. Atlantic Avenue is essentially bongos, cheese slicers, and grunting monkeys. Every instrument on the track is distinguishable and opulent. A balance is struck between a twitching jungle and a meadow of chirping crickets. This stuff is just so cool, trust me.

Droids return on the fast, choppy jelly-roll of Terrible Sunburn. Guitars poke and stab at the nothingness of a hazy, mountainous hum. Before long, you're left with Castlevania-style dungeon doom meeting insane honeybee-frazzle. Primal pounding returns, meat-shaving purr fades out, and you're left KNOWING Gustnado isn't quite done. The album's final minute is lost in an Atari while strings beautifully echo in a wishing well.

Hallucination Boulevard might be the most gorgeously eccentric thing you'll ever hear. Don't ignore the sounds in the background, and don't believe the absence of vocals is a fault. Gustnado accomplish plenty without stuffing your head with fodder. This is weird stuff, no question. This is also undeniable musicianship, incredible stoner fuzz, and a welcome affront to the contrived nature of much of today's sound. Frank Tudisco knows exactly where his instruments are taking us. The best part about Hallucination Boulevard is that the listener doesn't.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Swerver hails from San Jose, California and features Jimmy Arceneaux (ex-New Idol Son) on guitar/vocals, Dan Lawson on drums and Stevie Loveless on bass. Their sound is a distinct combination of everything that made the 90’s such a great time for music. Take the swirling guitars of Quicksand, the syncopated riffs of Helmet, and throw a casual nod to the early grunge sound of the Pacific Northwest and voila…Swerver.

Arceneaux paves the way with his pseudo laid back vocal delivery (think Richard Patrick from Filter) and guitar work that’s certain to get your head bobbing. But this ain’t no cock rock my friends...there’s enough melody here to get your girlfriend’s toes tapping too. Meanwhile, Lawson and Loveless lay down some serious groove…the former slamming out beats with reckless abandon (just give a listen to the pop on that snare) and the latter keeping the entire ensemble steady with his progressions on the low end.

Swerver is currently scheduling shows in and around Northern California, so if you’re in the area, keep an eye on their Facebook page for upcoming announcements.

Hailing from the bottom of the World, MACH1NES 0F
1NDETERM1NATE 0R1G1N come from a place that's not for the
faint hearted, they come from a place where it's snows on Christmas
Day (remember they're in the souther hemisphere), they come from
a place called VAN DIEMEN'S LAND, aka Hobart, Tasmania, Australia.
This new album from M.O.1.O leaves us again wanting more, whilst
on the long side for an EP the 5 tracks seem to flutter by in a heartless
massive stroke of down tuned guitar. M.O.1.O are masterful in
their delivery, both on record and live, they rarely put a foot wrong.
The duo is inspired by a combined love of the post-punk tribal percussion
of Killing Joke, the industrial infused metal of Godflesh, the
discordant guitar of Voivod, the lo fi energy of early 1980s US punk
and UK crust, the atmosphere and rhythms of Krautrock and the
slow stoner doom of early Black Sabbath. Vocally, the majority of
what's 'sung' is nonsensical. This in part is inspired by the 'instant
composition' technique employed by Damo Suzuki, but also has it's
basis in the recorded Dadaist poetry of Kurt Schwitters (amongst
others).

M.O.1.O are Matt Warren and Aaron Metcalf, a formidable combination
that have been playing in various guises since 1993. These
guys just love making BIG sounds.

0.5 Assumption is a fitting follow up to their heavy hitting debut EP
0.5 Presumption. The road that lays ahead for M.O.1.O is long, wide
and black.

"Machines of Indeterminite Origin delite in a callous, unnerving mix of slow crusty doom. Repetitious trance inducing rhythms wallow in a huge wave of bludgeoning guitars while strange noises and fuzzy riffs march the listener into a world of nothingness and despair. Listen now"

Star Ark is the musical imagination of Neil Flavelle. Blending all sorts of metal/rock/doom/prog Neil handles all composition and production/performances duties himself.

Early 2011 saw the release of Star Ark's debut album "Imperfectious" (available for free download) which was quickly followed by the free single "Winning". Neil is currently working on a follow up album to Imperfectious, slated for a late 2011/early 2012 release.

"Neil Flavelle also known simply as Star Ark is a multi-instrumentalist from Australia. Star Ark adds complex rhythms, beautiful melodies, and ear splitting crescendos to create an ethereal state of mind. Airy vocals give way to demonic possession on standout track "Betrayal-Lust-Cum". All albums are available for free on Star Ark's Bandcamp site."

Monday, August 15, 2011

Formed in early 2009 in Atlanta, MonstrO is the brainchild of bassist Kyle ...Sanders (Bloodsimple, Skrew, Medication), drummer Bevan Davies (Bloodsimple, Danzig, Jerry Cantrell, Comes With The Fall), guitarist Juan Montoya (Torche, Floor, Cavity) and guitarist/vocalist Carlos Suarez (Sunday Driver). The band will hit the road this fall supporting Kyuss Lives! and The Sword. Their self-titled debut produced by William DuVall from Alice in Chains will be released Sept. 6th on Vagrant Records .

"MonstrO from Atlanta, Ga combine atmospheric ambience with thick riffs to create a Sabbath meets Pink Floyd kind of vibe. Embracing sixties psychedelic music, the band includes elements of shoegaze and metal to make a hazy, heady and hypnotic debut."

VALLEY OF THE SUN is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Morning Buzz...

Bio:

There is a smoldering hotbed of Rock and Roll in the most unlikely of places; Ohio. Some time ago, the Devil came to sew his seed throughout the state leaving every city with it’s own High Priests of Hellish Riffs. The congregation of Cincinnati’s Church of Rock and Roll is watched over by Valley of the Sun, and a well tended flock they are. Riff after righteous riff is thrown from the pulpit with the fury of fire and brimstone, so come out to the Rock and Roll Revival , bring your offering and prepare to be anointed!

"Back in November of 2010 I wrote up a feature on a band called Valley of the Sun from Cincinnati, Ohio. Since that time the band has garnered some serious recognition around the world. The band was most recently chosen as an opening band for select dates on Sweden's Truckfighters first ever U.S. tour.

The band has recently released a new EP "The Sayings of the Seers" on their Bandcamp site. This is one of the most fierce releases I have heard in a while."

"I will first off start out by saying that I believe this to be at the top of my list of best releases of the year even though it is only an EP. Valley of the Sun seemlessly blends blistering stoner grooves, stellar musicianship, and high energy low and high dynamics to their amazing sound. Oh, and did I mention that Ryan Ferrier may quite possibly be the best vocalist I've heard since Miles Kennedy and Chris Cornell. From the unmatched soaring vocal harmonies of opener "Hearts Aflame" , the epicness of "Mariner's Tales" to the steam rolling groove of "Deep Light Burns", Cincinnati's Valley of the Sun is a well-polished band that is ready to be singed into your brain. "